


Unrequited love is my specialty

by tonysleatherjacket



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonysleatherjacket/pseuds/tonysleatherjacket
Summary: Clay's silently pining for Tony, but are his feelings really as one-sided as he thinks?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summary is dumb, I promise the story is better

Clay is lying in bed. He can't sleep. He checks the time on his phone, which reads  _1:33 a.m._ He doesn't think he's been able to sleep the same since he started listening to the tapes. Maybe even since Hannah died. Sometimes he has nightmares, sometimes he just finds himself staring blankly at the wall in the late hours of the night, or was it the early houses of the morning? Either way, he finds it impossible to sleep, even though he's never felt more tired. 

He listens to the faint sound of his dad snoring, and it was always his dad because his mom insisted she didn't snore. Clay figured it was best just to take her word for it. It was so quiet in the house, it was unnerving. Made him feel kind of panicky; everyone on the whole street was probably asleep by now, aside from Clay. No matter what, he always felt like he was on the outside of things. Everyone else just went on existing, and it was like he wasn't even there. He had begun to understand what Hannah meant when she said she felt alone. He did too. He puts a hand to his chest, feeling his heart pound underneath his fingertips. Sometimes he felt the need to check his pulse, just to remind himself that he was still alive. 

He wants to stop feeling this way. This empty numbness. But he doesn't know how. He just tries to ignore it. He unlocks his phone, knowing he won't fall asleep anytime soon. He swipes through his pictures, figuring he'd delete some. He comes to a stop on one particular picture; it's of him and Tony. It was taken a couple of weeks ago, when they'd gone to an art show hosted at school, to see Skye's sculptures. They were dressed nicely, standing close to one another as they smiled at the camera. Clay's thumb rests over the picture, hesitating. He doesn't want to delete it, it's a good picture, so why doesn't he move on? Instead he keeps staring at Tony; Tony with his slicked back hair, blue button down shirt, impossibly warm brown eyes. His heart flutters a tiny bit. 

Then his phone pings with a notification, jolting him out of his weird daze. It's a text message. From  _Tony._

_Tony: hey, you still up?_

Clay feels his cheeks heat up; like somehow Tony knew he had been staring at a picture of him just now. But that was impossible. He types back,

_Clay: yeah, why are you? it's a school night_

The reply is instant.

_Tony: it is, which is why you should be asleep_

Clay sits up in his bed, pushing his pillow up some, and settles back down, smiling slightly.

_Clay: i can't go to sleep, im talking to you_

_Tony: haha. very funny. do you want me to go?_

_Clay: no._ He waits a couple of seconds, then sends another message,  _i like talking to you_

_Tony: me too_

He isn't sure what to say. These past few weeks, after the tapes had been released, he had been spending more and more time with Tony. It was different now that he wasn't just following him around anymore, urging him to listen to the tapes. He was hanging out with Clay simply because he wanted to. He found it so easy to be around him, like all the worry and anxiety he usually felt with other people just dissipated. He felt comfortable with Tony.

_Tony: would you rather: be invisible for a day, or be able to fly for a day?_

Clay smiled. This was a little game they'd been playing with each for awhile now, giving each other two scenarios and having to choose which one you'd rather do.

_Clay: be able to fly, obviously. im already invisible. would you rather: work on cars for the rest of your life but never have a car of your own, or have your dream car but never be able to work on cars?  
_

_Tony: you aren't invisible to me. i guess i'd rather be able to work on cars. good thing i already have my dream car_

Clay felt himself blush at the first part of the message. 

_Tony: would you rather: constantly trip and fall down, or constantly bump into walls?_

Too bad Clay did both. He was the clumsiest person alive.

_Clay: trip, because i know you'd always be there to catch me before i fall_

Okay, where the hell did that come from? He felt panic rising up, as he anxiously waited for Tony to reply. Why would he say something like that?

_Tony: always_

They texted back and forth for a bit longer, beginning to ask each other even more ridiculous questions that made Clay smile and laugh. Eventually though, a little after two in the morning, Clay felt his eyes drooping. He tried to stay awake because he wanted to keep talking to Tony, but soon enough sleep won and he closed his eyes for good, phone falling from his hands to his chest, after Tony had just sent another text that said,

_Tony: hey clay, can i tell you something? and promise you won't freak out_

 


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes up to the loud, insistent beeping of the alarm on his phone. Clay blinks, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He automatically checks his texts, feeling bad that he must've fallen asleep on Tony; and sure enough, there's a message from him that says,  _hey clay, can i tell you something? and promise you won't freak out_

Clay frowns, wondering what Tony wanted to tell him. He sends a text that says,  _sorry man, fell asleep. what did you want to tell me?_ Then he plugs his phone in so it can charge some, and heads to the bathroom. He sheds his clothes and turns the water on and steps inside the shower, hot water pouring down over him but he barely feels it. He thought about the short slump he went through, when he didn't even have the energy to shower. He still feels that way; mentally tired beyond repair, but he's begun showering daily again. He turns the water as hot as it will go, making his skin turn bright red from the heat. He wants to feel the slight sting. Needs to feel some sort of pain. He stands under the water, motionless, for a few minutes. The sound of the water fades out as he loses all senses of his surroundings; like he's zoning out, but not really. 

Eventually though, he washes his hair and scrubs at his body; scrubs so hard it hurts, like he's anxious to clean what is already clean. He can't help but still feel dirty. 

"Clay!" He hears his mom call from the hallway, "honey, please hurry, your father needs to take a shower too."

"Okay!" He shouts back, and forces himself to stop scrubbing. He rinses himself for the final time, and turns the water off. When he looks in the mirror, his skin is still red. He hates the way he looks. He's too skinny, too tall, too pale. His eyes are too small and he's still got that scar on his forehead. It probably would've faded completely by now, if he'd stop picking at it, opening the closing wound. But he can't help it, he wants to feel the pain. 

After he changes into fresh clothes, he heads downstairs. His mom is still insistent that he eats breakfast each morning. 

"Good morning." His mom smiles, fixing herself a cup of coffee. 

He tries to smile, and hope it doesn't look as forced as it is. 

"Morning."

He grabs the plate of toast his mom has laid out for him, like she always does. He hates how dependent he feels on her. She was always hovering over him;  _you need to eat breakfast sweetie, please start taking your meds again, please tell me about your day and how you feel._ He knows she only does it because she cares, but it doesn't mean he enjoys her constant nagging any more.

His mom squeezes his arm as she passes by, and stops, frowning. "Clay, are you feeling okay? You feel warm." She puts her hand across his forehead, checking for a fever.

"I'm fine." He shrugs her off. "Just had the water a little too hot. I gotta get to school."

He rushes upstairs before she can say anything else. Tony still hasn't texted back. He slings his backpack across his shoulder and shoves his phone in his pocket, heading downstairs again and out the door to his bike. He pedals hard; faster, faster, faster. He feels like he's burning, burning so bad it's an almost indescribable feeling, but not a hot stinging kind of burn, the kind of burn that makes him ache, and he's desperate for it to stop. He wants to cry out, but doesn't. He just pedals harder, and by the time he gets to school, he's panting and sweating. 

Clay notices Tony pull into the parking lot as he's locking his bike, and figures he'll wait by the bike rack for him. Tony sees him as he's walking towards the school, and gives him a wave.

"Hey, Clay." He says, pink lips stretching wide into a smile. 

"Hi, Tony." He feels himself smiling back, a genuine smile. "What was it you wanted to tell me? Last night?" Tony wasn't much of a big talker, aside from their talk at the cliff and the night he listened to his tape. If Tony wanted to tell him something, something that he was afraid to tell him, scared of how Clay would react, it must have been something big. After all, everything that happened with Hannah was done. He knew everything already, everything she wanted him to know. It couldn't be anything about Hannah, it had to be about something else.

Tony's smile falters slightly, and he shifts uncomfortably. "Uh, it was nothing."

Clay narrows his eyes; it was obvious it was something.

"You sure?" He questions.

"Yes."

He's about to question him further, but then Brad walks up to them. 

"Hey, babe." Brad says, giving him a quick kiss on his temple, and moving back, showing no other sign of affection. Clay feels his heart twist, his throat tightening, and he tries to keep his composure. Why would Tony's boyfriend kissing him make him uncomfortable?

"Hey." Tony's smile returns, but he looks a little nervous, gaze filtering back and forth between him and Brad. 

"I gotta go." Clay says, "See you at lunch, Tony?" Brad didn't have the same lunch as them. 

"Yes, of course." Tony answers, looking like he wants to say something more, like maybe he's going to stop Clay from walking away, and Clay hesitates, feet still planted firmly to the ground. He wants to know what Tony wanted to tell him. But Tony doesn't say anything else, so he walks away. 

 _I'm going to find out what you're not telling me,_ he thinks as he walks inside the building.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Clay sits through all of his classes, generally bored. He used to look forward to going to school, always loved learning new things and getting good grades, but now it all just seemed uninteresting. Pointless. His grades have started to slip from A's to low B's, but he doesn't even care. All he can think about is Hannah. Hannah and how she was smart too, how she deserved to graduate and go to a great college and have an amazing job she loved. How could he just go on? Keep being at the top of his class, being successful at life, when she was gone? She deserved everything Clay had. He deserved none of it.

Sometimes he thinks about Tony too. He's there in the back of his mind when he can't focus on his work. He thinks of his gelled hair, how it would feel to run his fingers through it. He thinks of his too warm eyes, too soft features. Tony was all broad shoulders and muscles and tattoos, but there was a hidden gentleness to him that Clay had seen a few times. He wishes to see more of that side. He thinks of the way Tony loves old music and cassette tapes, the way his hands work wonders on cars. They probably work wonders on other things too. 

Clay walks quickly from his history class to the cafeteria so he could get there faster than he usually does; anxious to see Tony. He plops down at a table towards the back, near the doors that lead outside. He keeps glancing at the entrance of the cafeteria, but it's hard to look for Tony throughout the sea of other people filtering into the already crowded room. 

"Looking for me?" Clay jumps slightly as Skye sits down across from him. She's clad in her typical outfit of all black clothing, a smirk on her face.

"Oh, hey Skye."

Skye looks at him weirdly, and takes out a sketchbook and pencil from her bag. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing!" Clay says a little too quickly, blushing slightly as he pulls out the food from his sack lunch. 

"And I thought  _I_ was weird."

"You are weird." Clay jokes, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

"Hey, guys." Tony sits down next to Skye, seeming to appear from nowhere. Clay almost chokes on his food. 

"You know what's up with Clay?" Skye asks, glancing over at Clay again.

Tony's eyebrows furrow as he stares at Clay. "No."

Clay manages to swallow his food, giving Skye a pointed look that's more playful than truly angry. "There's nothing up with me." He insists. 

"Alright, alright." Skye says, opening her sketchbook and turning to a fresh page. Her head is bent, a look of concentration on her face as she begins drawing something. 

"So, Tony," Clay says, looking over at him. "Wanna come over tonight? Have a movie night or something?"

"Sure." Tony agrees, smiling. He looks over at Skye, and back to Clay again, an amused smile on his face.

Clay blushes again. "Oh, Skye!"

Skye looks up from her book, confused.

"You can like, totally come too of course."

Skye smirks. "Thanks, but no thanks. I've got a shift at Monet's." She goes back to drawing. 

 

-

 

It's later that day, almost six. Clay's finishing cleaning his room. It wasn't really dirty, but Clay still felt the need to tidy things up.  _It's not like this is a date or anything_ , he shakes his head as he makes up his bed for the third time. He's going to rip the sheets if he tries to make them any straighter.  _Besides, Tony has a boyfriend._

It's not like he likes Tony. He doesn't. They're just friends. 

The doorbell rings twenty minutes later, and Clay stumbles down the stairs, stomach in knots. He has anxiety; he's always this nervous. At least that's what Clay tries to tell himself as he opens the door.

"Hey, Clay." Tony gives him that million dollar smile of his, standing all cool and suave on the doorstep with his gelled up hair and leather jacket and dark jeans. It was like he was straight out of a movie. 

"Hi, Tony." He opens the door wider for him to come him. 

"I think we're just ordering a pizza, my mom's working late tonight."

Tony nods, and follows Clay upstairs.

"You can pick the movie." Clay motions to the stack by his desk, and sits down awkwardly on the bed. 

Tony and him have had dozens of movie nights, so he isn't sure why he's so nervous and frazzled tonight. He watches as Tony bends down, looking through the films. Clay notices the way his jeans fit just right, the way when he's bent down like this his ass is extremely prominent, and his thighs. He's got thick, strong thighs. Clay turns away, blushing profusely, hating himself for staring. 

"How about this one?" Tony asks, and he feels the bed dip as Tony sits next to him.

Clay looks over at him, and he's got the movie Grease in his hand. Clay rolls his eyes. 

"What? It's a classic." Tony laughs.

"Fine." Clay just smiles, taking the dvd. His fingers brush up against Tony's; warm and calloused. 

Clay coughs to clear his throat, getting up to put the movie into his laptop. He brings the laptop over to the bed, and lays down with it resting across his thighs. Tony lays down too, pressed up against Clay so he will be able to see the movie on the tiny screen. Clay tries to breathe normally as he starts the movie. He's extremely aware of Tony's shoulder and leg touching his, and he can feel the heat radiating from his body. He tries to ignore the fact that he wants to do something; make a move, or wait for Tony to make a move, which is ridiculous because Tony's dating Brad and even if he wasn't, it's not like Tony would ever like him like that. He just tries to focus on the movie.

It's nearly an hour later when Clay notices Tony starting to fall asleep. He watches the way his eyes keep closing for a few seconds, and then they stay that way. He's got long lashes, and his chest moves up and down slowly with his steady breathing. Clay scoots down so he's level with Tony, and sets the laptop down next to him, snuggling closer to Tony. He closes his eyes to pretend he's asleep too in case he wakes up. He moves so close he can feel Tony's breathe on him; warm and smelling faintly of cinnamon. He revels in the way it feels to be so close to his friend, how relaxing and nice it is. 

 _Just a friend, just a friend,_ he keeps repeating in his head; even though it's obvious Clay's feelings for Tony are becoming far more than just friendly. 

And if it hadn't been for Clay's dad yelling from downstairs that the pizza was here, Clay wasn't sure what he would've done next. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, I've started a Jannah fic! (Jessica x Hannah)

Clay opens his eyes, staring longingly  at the boy asleep in front of him. Tony looks much softer like this; his lashes looking extremely long now that his eyes are closed, and his mouth is open slightly as he takes slow, steady breaths. Clay wonders briefly what Tony's lips would feel like. Would they be soft? Would Tony kiss him gently? Or would his lips be rough, would he kiss him hard; all teeth and with a firm insistence? He's never kissed another boy before, way too afraid of his feelings to even ever _attempt_ anything with a boy. It was bad enough that people thought he was gay already, what would people think if they knew that he actually did like boys as well as girls?

"Clay!" His dad yells more insistently this time. "Pizza!"

Clay sighs, leaning in close to Tony, hovering only inches away from those pink lips, before he pulls way, way back; scooting away from him and sitting up, willing the slight tinge of pink to leave his cheeks. 

"Tony." He whispers, but the boy doesn't even stir. 

"Tony!" He says louder this time, giving him a gentle push. He leaves his hand on Tony's arm, that's thick with muscle. He likes the feel of it.

Tony's dark eyes flutter open, and blinks a few times, looking up at Clay through a sleepy haze. "Sorry, did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, but it's cool. The pizza's here."

Tony stares down at Clay's hand on him, and Clay pulls his hand away in embarrassment. Tony sits up, stretching, and Clay tries not to stare.  _Think of other things_ , he begs, looking at the posters on his wall,  _think of anything else besides the way Tony's shirt is riding up, the way his muscles are practically gleaming._

"You ready to eat?" Clay looks over hesitantly at Tony; who's got a hint of a smirk on his dumb, handsome face.

"Yeah." He nods, carefully getting up off of the bed so he doesn't trip like the clumsy idiot he is. 

Tony follows him downstairs, and once they get to the kitchen, his dad looks up from the table, giving the two of them a weird look.

"'Bout time you boys got down here." He says, and Clay just about dies on the spot from even further embarrassment. 

Tony grabs a paper plate, pulling out a couple of slices from the box, and taking a seat next to Clay's dad. Clay's sure his whole face is beet red by now, as he takes the seat across from Tony. His dad just looks between the two of them; smiling like he knows a big secret. 

"So, how are things going for you, Tony?" 

Tony swallows and wipes his mouth with a napkin, before turning slightly to face Mr. Jensen. "Good, sir. Things have been pretty slow at the shop lately, though."

"Oh, you and your family own that auto repair shop on the other side of town, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know, I've been having a little trouble with my engine lately, it's been taking awhile for the car to start. Think you could give it a look later on?"

"Of course."

Clay blushes once again, thinking of Tony getting all hot and sweaty from working on cars, how he'd probably take his shirt off, exposing his tattoos, and his rough, hard body. 

"You know dad, it's getting kind of late, actually..." Clay interrupts. 

His dad gives him a pointed look. "We can work in the garage, we'll have plenty of light in there. And besides, it's Friday, Tony can spend the night if he'd like." His dad looks to Tony, who's smiling politely back at him. "I'd love to, sir."

"Then it's settled." His dad picks up the half eaten slice of greasy pizza, and takes another bite.

Clay coughs, staring down at his food, suddenly not hungry any more. He feels something brush up against his leg; Tony's foot. Tony's kicking him. He looks up, meeting Tony's bright gaze. His dark eyes shine, and he's smiling in an easy, carefree way, that's probably slightly teasing too. Clay slides his foot up Tony's jean clad leg, stopping once he gets to his knee, and drops his foot. Tony raises his eyebrow and smirks. 

"So, you boys have any more history projects? You know, I don't remember you ever mentioning you had history with Tony, Clay." Mr. Jensen says suspiciously.

Of course he hadn't, because him and Tony didn't have history together. Clay freezes up, panic setting in. But then he feels Tony's foot again, not kicking him, but sliding it up slowly up his leg, just like Clay had done.

"Uh, no we don't, not at the moment."

His dad stares at him for a moment, before getting up and throwing his plate in the garbage. "I'll be in the garage, Tony."

"You okay, Clay?"

Clay nods, not trusting himself to speak. Tony's foot is planted firmly on the ground, right up against Clay's leg. They eat the rest of their pizza in silence, and once he's done, Clay all but rushes upstairs to his room. He shuts the door behind himself, covering his face in his hands.

 _God, I'm such an idiot,_ he thinks to himself. He settles down on his bed, flipping himself over so he's face first down on the bed, groaning.

 

-

 

Clay's almost fallen asleep, once he hears his door open. He sits up, as Tony walks into the room. He's,  _of course,_ shirtless, t-shirt crumpled in his hand, chest slick with sweat. Clay's mouth all but drops open, as he stares at him. His hair's a lot messier, the product in it fading, little tendrils falling across his forehead. "Uh..." Clay mumbles lamely. 

"Can I take a shower?" Tony questions, shifting uncomfortably. 

"Two doors down on the right." Clay mutters, watching him turn around and leave, his cheeks blazing for the millionth time that night. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Tony's just your friend. A friend you had fallen out of contact with, but have been slowly reconnecting with. Don't mess this up like you mess_ everything  _up._

 _Tony has a_ boyfriend. 

Clay tells himself these things as he sits on his bed. He can hear the shower turn on from the bathroom down the hall. He tries not to think about Tony naked; washing himself. He groans, trying to get the unwanted and dirty image out of hid head, tugging his jeans off. As he's putting them in the hamper near his closet, there's a knock on his door. His dad opens the door, holding a stack of sheets, a thick blanket, and a pillow in one hand. 

"For Tony." His dad says, walking in, handing the pile over to Clay.

Clay takes them hesitantly. "He can just sleep in the bed with me? Like he always used to."

His dad sighs, clearly holding something back. "Don't you think you boys are getting a little too big for that small bed of yours?" Mr. Jensen gives his son a sharp look, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

"I...guess you're right." Clay nods, trying to keep the horror he feels off of his face. He knew his dad didn't  _really_ think the bed was too small for the two of them. 

"Good. Goodnight, son." 

Clay shakes his head. Maybe it would be best if Tony didn't sleep in bed with him. That way he could...better control himself. He gets down on his knees, spreading the sheets on the floor in front of his bed. He spreads out the wool blanket on top of the sheets, then sets the pillow down. When he's done, it's been about five or so minutes, and he hears the door open for the second time. He thinks it might be his dad coming to make sure he was really setting up the space for Tony, so he stays crouched down, straightening the sheets. 

The door closes. Clay eventually turns around, unnerved by the silence; and he's shocked to find that it's Tony standing before him and not his dad. He hadn't even heard the water turn off. Tony's eyes are trained not at his face, but lower. Clay stares at him curiously; confusion turning to something more as he really looks at Tony. He's got a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, droplets of water sliding from his wet hair down his chest; his hard, muscled chest. Clay tries not to drool as he stands up, forcing himself to look down at the ground. 

"So, I'll sleep on the floor?" Tony manages, voice sounding hoarse. 

"No, don't be silly. You're my guest, I'll sleep on the floor. You take my bed."

"It's your bed, Clay, you should sleep in it."

Clay feels himself blush, as he argues back and forth with Tony. He was too stubborn, and too nice. It was hard to get mad at a guy like Tony, because he was just too kind. That and the fact that he was incredibly attractive. 

"I'm sleeping on the floor, okay? No more arguing." He pauses, "I have a pair of boxers you can borrow." He walks to his dresser and opens a drawer, "I don't usually wear boxers," Clay says it in a general statement, though he's hoping Tony already knows this, seeing as how they have gym together and they dress out next to each other, "I got this pack of boxers, but they're a little big on me." Clay pulls out a pair of boxers and hands them over to Tony; who starts blushing like mad, not knowing quite what to do because he's holding his towel with one hand, and his dirty clothes in the other.

"I'll just, uh...leave these here." He sets the underwear on top of the dresser. "I'll go see if my dad has any spare clothes for you to wear, his will probably fit you better than mine."

Clay darts out the door, cheeks flaming. His dad's in the shower when he enters his parent's bedroom, so he opens his dad's dresser and grabs a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He heads back to his room, but waits a few seconds to regain his composure. 

When he opens the door, Tony's sitting on his bed, wearing  _his_ underwear, drying his hair. Clay gulps, staring lustfully as his almost naked friend. Tony looks up at him, and Clay quickly moves the clothes to cover his crotch. "I, uh, found you some clothes." Clay says in a shy voice, not moving. 

Tony smiles, setting the towel down and leaning back on the bed. "Thanks, Clay."

Clay coughs, and walks into the room, shutting the door behind him. He hands the clothes to Tony, and quickly turns away, praying his slight hard-on isn't noticeable; though it probably is, through his tight briefs. 

"I don't wear pants to bed, but I'll wear the shirt."

Clay just nods, and quickly crawls into the makeshift bed on the floor. He watches as Tony pulls the shirt on, setting the sweats on the dresser. "You ready to sleep now?"

Clay smiles and nods, not trusting himself to even get out a coherent sentence if he were to speak.

"Okay." Tony turns off the lights, and settles down on the bed.

It's about fifteen or so minutes later, that Clay finds himself shifting around trying to find a comfortable position that he can fall asleep, though it's impossible when you're sleeping on the hard floor. 

"Do you wanna sleep up here?" Tony questions, and Clay can hear the smirk in his voice. 

"But you're sleeping in the bed."

"C'mon, you can too."

Clay stays silent.

"It's your bed."

Clay knows he should stay on the ground, suffer through sleeping uncomfortably, but he doesn't. He quietly gets up off the ground, and slips into the bed beside Tony. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you guys like me to make my chapters longer? I try to keep each one at about 1,000 words, so it doesn't take too long to read, but if you guys would like longer chapters, tell me! Always what kind of stuff would you like to see happen in later chapters? Or what kind of prompts/ideas do you have for future clony fics? Tell me in the comments!


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